


heartstopper

by hey_there_demons



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: M/M, a brief convo about hamilton, and we love mike, audra shows up for a second as bill's lowkey cool but responsible roommate, bc don't go erasing my homegirl i love her, ben is gay but he's straight for bev but he's gay for mike and mike's really gay for ben, bill plays baseball and is a little keyboard warrior sorry i don't make the rules, get outta my pub, get tf outta here boi ur not welcome, he should rlly go to a hospital with all the stuttering it does jeez louise upon a breeze, he's a jock with a heart of gold and stan is flustered as hecky, no pennywise, soft stan lives yo, stan and richie are childhood bffs who know each other's types and takes full advantage of that info, stan's heart goes through some shit, y'all are sleeping on the bev/ben/mike combo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_there_demons/pseuds/hey_there_demons
Summary: It was so much easier to say that Bill was a typical jock, who didn’t realise that he had peaked in high school and was partying his way through college. It would be easy to say that at first, looking at Bill’s dumb snapback, or his flannel over his baseball tee or at his ridiculous shorts.But when is anything ever easy for Stan?





	heartstopper

**Author's Note:**

> this is indulgent bs i wrote while avoiding work in my media classes.

If Stan could choose to be anywhere, it would be in a nature park. The hot sun bearing down on him, sweat gathering uncomfortable under the strap of his binoculars around his neck and not caring one bit. He would take the paths less taken, or would be there on a day where less people would come. He would scan the trees for birds and take notes of the ones he saw. Maybe later he would sit underneath one of these trees and bask in the cool shade, almost drifting off in the heat, eyes closed behind his sunglasses.

 

If Stan could choose to be anywhere, it wouldn’t be here.

 

Not at a raging party with other nineteen to twenty one students getting wasted out their minds. Not getting stepped and sat on by accident by drunken idiots who couldn’t keep themselves upright. Not swirling some untrustworthy purple drink in a red solo cup like he was in a bad teen movie.

 

Certainly not with Bill Denbrough.

 

It was so much easier to say that Bill was a typical jock, who didn’t realise that he had peaked in high school and was partying his way through college. It would be easy to say that at first, looking at Bill’s dumb snapback, or his flannel over his baseball tee or at his ridiculous shorts.

 

But when is anything ever easy for Stan?

 

Bill was _smart_ , for one. He got into college, not on a sports scholarship, but by getting the grades. He could talk to Stan for hours about literature and art, which Stan would always listen to, despite knowing very little about those subjects. He was also informed, asking Stan if he had seen the news lately and getting into heated debates with Richie who, for the most part, was on Bill’s side but loved to play devil’s advocate. But he was also kind. He made sure everyone who came to his parties were getting home safe, his phone blowing up with texts from people, notifying him of their safe return each night and if people didn’t text, you can be sure as hell, he’ll be texting them. He never pressured anyone and stopped people pressuring others. He liked talking to different people, Stan could see it in his lit up eyes whenever he turned to talk to a band geek to a Goth to a cheerleader – he was interested in whatever anyone had to say. Even Stan.

 

Stan was done for.

 

“What’s Grenfell Tower again?” Stan asked, having been lost in thought during Bill’s rambling. Bill didn’t look offended, just laughing in disbelief and beginning to explain again. They were sitting on the loveseat on the edge of the living room, and hadn’t been interrupted almost at all, which was a surprise and a relief. That is until, Richie Tozier threw himself on Stan’s lap, in a dramatic fashion that only Richie Tozier can pull off.

 

“Stan, I’m in love!” He slurred, lying back even further until his head rested on Bill’s lap. “Hi, Billy. I’m in love.”  
“Yeah, I heard.” He said, placating the other boy, patting his head good-naturedly. “With who?” Richie sat up then, scanning the room before his eyes lit up again.  
“Him!” He pointed at a small boy across the room that was talking to a red-haired girl, while sneaking looks back at Richie. He wore overalls, for god sake. Yeah, he was Richie’s type.   
“Maybe you should go talk to him.” Stan suggested, wanting him out of his lap so he could continue his conversation with Bill.  
“What?” Richie screeched. “You just want me outta here so you and lover boy can carry on...” He trailed off, making kissing gestures with his lips and Stan blushed heavily, regretting telling Richie a damn thing about his crush on Bill.  
“Shut _up_.” He argued weakly, avoiding Bill’s attempts at eye contact. “Get off me.” He pushed Richie off and walked away, the awkwardness choking him.

 

In a moment of courage (or stupidity), he made a beeline for the boy Richie had pointed to. The boy eyed him as he approached and he attempted to make himself look as non-threatening as possible.  
“I’m Stan.” He said and the boy just rolled his eyes.  
“I’m uninterested.” He replied in a deadpan voice and Stan smiled, despite himself.  
“I’m a friend of Richie’s.” He gestured back to the loveseat, where Richie looked on helplessly and Bill just stared at Stan, confused. “He really likes you.”  
“Come on, he’s a total closet case.” The boy sounded sad and Stan knew he liked him back. But he broke out in peals of laughter at his words.  
“Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to laugh but…” He leant in closer to both the boy and the redhead next to him, who’s been silent since he arrived. “Richie prides himself on following bi culture to a T. You know, the whole cuffed jeans, unruly hair, and Hawaiian shirt lifestyle. _He’s like bi-est bi to ever_ bi. In his own words.” The boy thought for a moment before sticking his hand out.

 

“Eddie.” Stan shook it, grateful for some sort of progress. Eddie took his hand back, fiddling with his hands bashfully. “So, Richie likes me?”  
“He’s already proclaimed his love for you. Loudly. Directly in my ear.” Eddie laughs breathlessly. “You should go talk to him. I think he’s two seconds away from crying because he thinks I’m stealing you away.”  
“No one can steal me away. I don’t belong to him.” But Eddie smiles and he looks over Stan’s shoulder back at Richie. He smiles at Stan once more, before heading over there.  Stan watches him go, leaving him and the redhead behind.

 

“I can’t believe you just _Helpless_ -ed them.” The girl laughs, sipping from her cup.  
“Someone had to.” Stan smiled. “I didn’t catch your name.”  
“Bev.” She replied and he decided he liked the name a lot.   
“So, would you be his _Laurens_?” Stan asked, starting a conversation which Bev takes up, laughing.  
“Hell, no. As cute as Eddie is, he’s not my type. I would be _Lafayette_.” She proclaims this as if she’d thought about it before, which makes Stan like her more.  
“I support that.” He holds his cup up for her to clink her cup against it.  
“What about you?” She asked. “Don’t tell me you’re really _Angelica_.” Stan thought about it, looking back at Richie and Eddie on the loveseat and with Bill, sitting on the armrest, looking back at Stan. The look was soft and almost romantic, making Stan flush.   
“No. I’m not _Angelica_.”

 

Stan didn’t see Bill for another week after that. Not that Stan was taking notice.

 

He was too busy studying ( _yeah, remember studying?_ An inner voice that sounded suspiciously like his father snarked) when Richie walked into his room.   
“Are you coming tonight?” He asked, already dressed in yet another stupid Hawaiian shirt and new jeans (cuffed, of course). Stan wonders if he brought them after Eddie made fun of his old faded ones.  
“Where?” He asked, already turning back to his assignment, knowing what his answer was.  
“Bill’s party.” Richie flopped onto the bed. “Bev was telling me that Bill wanted to see you again.”  
“Bill wants to see everyone.” Stan rolled his eyes. “It’s part of his charm.”  
“Yeah, but he wants to _see_ you again, if you know what I mean.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Stan wanted to hit him with a cushion.  
“No, I don’t know what you mean.”  
“Come tonight and you’ll find out.” Richie threw his jacket at him and walked towards the door.  
“I don’t care.” Stan argued, saving his assignment and standing up, already throwing on the jacket.  
“Yeah, you do.” Richie smirked.

 

That’s how Stan turned up at Bill’s house for a second Saturday. The party was much smaller, it seemed like it was only intimate friends only, which Stan didn’t know how to feel about. The music was much quieter, allowing the groups of people to sit and hang out, which felt nice but much barer. At a loud party, it was so easy to blend in the background and go unnoticed. Here, he was exposed, like a raw nerve.

 

That’s how he felt under Bill’s gaze.

 

Stan, Richie, Eddie, Bev and Bill were all sitting on the stairs, joined by Ben (Bev’s boyfriend) and Mike (Ben’s boyfriend).  
“Ben has two hands.” Bev had said, when Richie questioned her about it and, somehow, he understood.  
Bill and Richie claimed the two bottom steps, stretching their long legs out, Bill’s back against the wall and Richie’s against the banister. Bev and Eddie were sat on the fourth step with their feet on the third, Bev sharing a cigarette with Richie. Stan and Mike were another two steps up, talking about their courses with Ben chiming in about how his geometry classes were killing him slowly, above them.  
“God, I’m so glad I never have to do Maths ever again.” Richie groaned.  
“Thank goodness for calculators in your phones, am I right, ladies?” Bev agreed and everyone except Stan and Ben made noises of affirmations, lifting their cups.  
“You can all say that when you’re broke as hell and need me to do your finances.” Stan snarked and Richie laughed.  
“That means he’s willing to do our finances if we go broke as hell.” He slurred, seeing right through Stan, as he always did. “’Cause he loves us really, underneath all that. He’s all soft. Soft Stan. That’s your name now. All those in favour, say aye.”  
“Hey-” Stan was interrupted by a chorus of ayes and blushed. He risked glancing at Bill and found him looking back, grinning ear to ear. He took a sip of his (non-alcoholic) drink just to avoid speaking.

 

“It’s t-true.” Bill said, staring straight at him. “D-Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you always listen t-to me rant. Even when my st-stutter gets bad.”  
“Yeah,” Eddie pipes up. “And how you came up to speak to me, so I would talk to Richie.”  
“And how you gave me your jacket when we were leaving last week’s party, so I wouldn’t be cold.” Bev said.  
“And you didn’t get an alcoholic drink when you saw I didn’t.” Mike joined.  
“And he always reminds me to take my medication.” Richie finishes. “Admit it, Stan. You’re a closet soft boy.”  
“Wow, I’m back in the closet.”  
“That’s as close as we’re going to get to an admission.” Eddie smirked.  
“We’ll t-take it.” Bill puts his cup in the air. “To Soft Stan.” The 5 other teenagers repeated the cheer, taking a drink.  

 

Bev and Richie had left to continue smoking outside, after Bill’s roommate Audra had asked them, telling them her friend had bad asthma.   
“No worries, hun.” Richie winked and held his arm out for Bev to take. “Come on, Beverly, tally ho!” He whisked her away, putting on a bad British accent.

 

Soon after that, Eddie had gone to get more drinks and Mike had turned toward Ben to talk about work (Stan learnt that they had both worked at the library, where they’d met.)

 

Stan wondered if Richie had orchestrated this, as Stan was left with Bill, who was staring expectantly back at him. He sat down on the second step, overlapping his feet with Bill’s, in a moment of boldness.  
“Richie said you wanted to see me.”  
“Yeah. I m-mean, he’s right. I d-did.” Bill smiled like he did the other night. Like Stan had made the sun for him in his shed and Stan was transfixed. “I w-wanted t-to see you again.”  
“Why?” He asked quietly, butterflies in his stomach at the thought of the answer. But Bill was hesitant to reply, blushing furiously.  
“D-Do you want me t-to say it?” He almost whispered, which forced Stan closer in order to hear.  
“Yes. Please.” He added as an afterthought. Bill smiled and covered his face in his hands.  
“I d-don’t know why it’s so hard t-to say.” He admitted, looking embarrassed and Stan felt like a shaken-up Coca-Cola bottle. “I like t-talking with you. A lot. You never interrupt me and you l-listen and you ask q-questions and when you get something your eyes light up and…p-people d-don’t do that often.” He trailed off, sheepishly. “Not for me.”  
“I’m not sure I understand.” Stan shook his head, thoroughly muddled. Bill looked at him and smiled.  
“Do you remember the first time we met?”

 

Of course, Stan remembers.

 

Richie had dragged him to one of the university’s baseball games.  
“Come on, Stan! Have some school spirit!” Richie had whined, and Stan had, begrudgingly agreed. And so, he was dragged to the stands, carrying Richie’s nachos and a milkshake for himself. They sat quite close, close enough to see the players clearly.  
“Who are we supporting right now?” He asked Richie.  
“The batters.” Richie had answered, nachos flying out of his mouth. Stan rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the game. The batter at the plate tapped his bat against the ground before bringing it up into position. Stan had time to admire him, which he couldn’t really help, being immediately attracted to the lean body and muscular arms as they flexed, the player swinging the bat.  
“Richie, who’s the batter running now?”  
“That’s Bill.” Richie smirked, knowingly. He had been friends with Stan since childhood and knew Stan’s type just as Stan knew his. “I’ve told you about his parties, remember?”  
“Oh.” Stan said, distracted by Bill’s sprinting. Who knew sprinting was so attractive?

 

At some point, Bill had taken his hat off and looked up into the crowd, giving Stan a full view of his face. He had brown hair, damp with sweat, which clung to his forehead and a grin a mile wide. He scanned the crowd, pure glee in his brown eyes before his gaze fell on Stan. He faltered before his grin returned and he winked.  
Stan flushed, and thought that maybe he was looking at someone else. But he couldn’t help the stutter that his heart went through and the feeling of his stomach dropping.

After the game, Richie had dragged him to a diner to get more food. He sat them in a booth, insisting that Stan’s back was facing the door. He seemed nervous, bouncing his leg and constantly flitting his eyes back up to the door.  
“What are you doing?” Stan had hissed, finally getting sick of it.  
“What – I’m not doing anything.” Richie got up quickly. “I need to go to the little Richie’s room.” As he left, Bill Denbrough sat in his place.  
“I hope you d-don’t mind, but I asked Richie if I c-could meet you.” Stan’s heart stopped the second time that night.  
“No. It’s fine.”

 

“Yeah, of course, I remember.” Stan said, wondering where this was going. “The baseball game.”  
“We’d actually met b-before.” Bill said. “It was the first few weeks of university. We met at the glow-in-the-dark rave. I was the painter.”

 

Stan vaguely remembered the party. Richie and he had been drinking pretty heavily, revelling in the flood of relief that came with freedom from the small town of Derry and Stan’s father. Richie had dared him to get his chest painted in UV paint and Stan was buzzed enough to agree. He couldn’t remember much else, except a suffocating feeling, close to arousal. “You asked me to p-paint your chest. It was s-singularly the most erotic experience I’ve had.” Stan had went to speak but Bill continued. “I knew R-Richie from English Lit and asked him about you. He said he would introduce us at the game.”

 

“Oh.” Stan didn’t know what to do with that information.   
“Do you g-get it now?” Bill asked, almost desperately, but Stan could only shake his head, confused and in disbelief. Bill’s face crumpled and he nursed his drink sadly.  
“I mean…” Stan couldn’t breathe. “Are you saying that you-“ He stopped, not wanting to say the words in case he had horribly and pathetically misjudged the situation. “Please, just tell me.”  
“I l-like you.” Bill’s face was open and trusting, Stan couldn’t look away. “Romantically.”  
“Oh.” Stan could’ve cried. All the tension drained from his body and relief flooding him like a cool breeze on a suffocating hot day. Bill was still frozen, waiting a response. “I mean I like you too. Romantically. “ Bill’s smile was breathtakingly gleeful and he wrapped his arms awkwardly around Stan in a hug. They swayed awkwardly before breaking apart, huffing out embarrassed laughs.  
“We should go out.” Bill said, excitedly and Stan grinned.  
“Yeah, we _should_. We should go on a date tomorrow.”  
“To the diner. We _should_ get milkshakes.”  
“Yeah.” Stan leant forward to peck Bill sweetly on the cheek, delighting in Bill’s blush.

 

“Fucking finally!” Richie shouted as he and Bev came out from their hiding spot. “Jesus on a boat, I thought you would never get it together. My legs were starting to cramp up.”  
“Why would Jesus need a boat? He can walk on water.” Bill said and Richie’s face went blanked as if the realisation had changed him and Stan snorted, ungracefully.  
“Yeah, you fucking idiot.” He snapped, jokingly, making everyone break out into laughter. He didn’t miss Bill’s hand wrapping around his.


End file.
